


persephone's folly

by ssuppositiouss



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, BillDip-Paradise 10k gift exchange, Hades Bill, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, Persephone Dipper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26236501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssuppositiouss/pseuds/ssuppositiouss
Summary: Bill Cipher, the god of the Nightmare Realm, is more than a bit entranced by the god of the summer evening Dipper Pines. His plans to end his banishment and exact revenge on Sixer won't be manipulated by his slight attraction to the summer god, though.
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines
Comments: 35
Kudos: 243





	persephone's folly

**Author's Note:**

> gift for [aziria](http://aziria-seragaki-blog.tumblr.com) for the BillDip10k Exchange! 
> 
> The prompts I tried to use were "something summer related" and "first date", which I definitely ended up twisting to fit this AU. God of summer Dipper on a picnic first date with the god of nightmares, anyone?
> 
> I'm sorry if it's not exactly what you were looking for, but I had soooo much fun writing this!

The rift is a black, almost effervescent distortion, a tear in their current reality that is actually a path to the Nightmare Realm if one were to notice and touch, edges rippling and glowing like starlight. It is a modicum of Bill’s power that he uses to keep an eye on the gods of snow and cold winter.

He’s horribly _bored_.

It’s been centuries since someone has visited him in the Nightmare Realm, since the god of winter _deigned_ him with his final appearance and final curse. Sixer has been busy, Bill assumes, since their _falling out_ led to a number of immortal deaths and the rebirth of the new gods of the seasons.

Still, a few centuries are plenty of time to overcome a _smidgen_ of betrayal and a tiny _sprinkle_ of lies. What are a few tricks in the grand scheme of the world? What’s the problem with pretending to be a muse and helping a heavenly being create the path to chaos and destruction?

Turning the Heavens and Earth into extensions of the Nightmare Realm is a great idea! Absorbing the power of numerous celestial beings to accomplish it, just a means to an end! Hardly worth permanent _banishment_ to the Nightmare Realm and warning all Earthly mortals and celestial gods away. His name isn’t even _mentioned_ anymore.

Mortals and gods are _missing out_ on the wonders of Bill Cipher!

Bill is the god of nightmares and death, of chaos, of terror. He can be demonic, but he’s a god of dreams. He has so many titles, so many stories, so many _powers_. An immortal being from before time began is bound to have a few stories. Rumors of his own creation say not to fall asleep around him. A few tall tales say he’s a manipulative deal maker.

Of course, no one thinks of him anymore. Not since Sixer stopped trusting him. Not since the banishment.

People know there’s a Nightmare Realm where beings go upon death or in the throes of horrible dreams. People don’t realize there’s a god creating these scenarios, working in the background to _keep balance_. (Bill doesn’t _abuse_ his power, he stretches the limits of what is and isn’t allowed by an immortal god. Hardly worth _banishment_ , honestly!)

Chaos is chaos, and Bill is Bill.

Sixer can’t really forget about him. Bill is his precious Muse. And he’s _always_ watching, _always_ waiting for his moment to _snatch_ his dreams back and _crush_ Sixer in the process.

The rift ripples, and, in it, Sixer makes a frustrated sound, tugging a young woman out of the hands of the lecherous god of woodland creatures, a being with hair overpowered by curving wooden horns with leaves protruding from them.

The god of woodland creatures is pathetic title, Bill thinks, but people haven’t _asked him for anything in centuries_ so what would he know? Lots of things, if he could just find the right _pathetic_ god—or goddess, he doesn’t discriminate!—to _manipulate_.

The woman with Sixer is wearing a flowing white dress, decorated with flowers still on the vine, wrapped around her waist and down her skirt. Her long hair is also ornate with flowers, pinks and purples and yellows. She exudes sunshine, happiness. Bill has to squint his eyes to look at her, muted as she is as an image through the rift. She’s like a shooting star, leaving a trail of light everywhere she goes.

There is little doubt of who she is once Bill sees her face—she’s clearly related to Sixer, but she’s younger, maybe a century old, if even, and she’s most definitely the new goddess of the summertime.

“It’s dangerous for you with these older gods!”

Despite his constant, watchful eye on Sixer, he’s somehow never _seen_ this woman before this moment. How odd.

Boisterous laughter rings through the air. “C’mon, Ford. Let her live a little!” Fez elbows his twin in the gut. “Mabel is tougher than both of us, a boyfriend or _five_ who shower her with gifts hardly—”

He’s heard the name Mabel before. There have been whisperings about a summer goddess, rumors of the hidden child of the god of spring. The key of course, being _hidden_.

She laughs, a tinkling, pretty giggle. “I don’t need _five_ boy—”

“Lee! You know as well as I do what could happen if. . .” Sixer glances around—always so _paranoid_ since Bill taught him a thing or two—and steps away from the woman so she is no longer in Bill’s line of sight. “Don’t say names.”

Interesting. _Interesting_.

How long has Sixer been _twisting_ his life in this way? How long has he known that Bill is _always_ _watching_?

Regardless, it seems Bill has new prey. How Sixer managed to hide her for so long is puzzling, and Bill doesn’t like being the one _tricked_. If he hadn’t been watching at the right time, listening for all the _details_ , he’d have missed her. Interesting, interesting.

“It’s too dangerous with these other gods.” Sixer is mumbling to himself, but Bill is an expert at Sixer’s mistrustful mannerisms. “But Earth is closer to _him_. . .”

After all. They were Master and Muse, once.

“The heavens are no more _dangerous_ than the _mortals_.” She sounds slightly resentful, pouty. It’s something Bill can play upon, when he deals with her. Maybe she’s desperate for freedom. Sixer’s gotten _pretty_ overprotective since his interactions with Bill. Does she want to roam the Earth, instead of the Heavens? Bill can promise her that, once he’s done _using_ her.

There won’t be much _Earth_ left, but that’s for her to find out!

Sixer’s intentions are pure, Bill knows. He only intends to keep the summer goddess safe from the demon-like Bill Cipher. He can’t _blame_ Sixer for unwittingly creating the very scenario he needs to disturb the centuries-long peace. The timing is just _too_ perfect.

“If I can’t play here,” she continues in her melodic tone, and Bill leans forward, closer to the edge of his rift, hanging on her every word, “I should at least get to join Dip—”

She cut herself off, realizing her mistake, and Bill clenches his hands into fists. So _close_. She isn’t fast enough for the way Sixer latches onto her words, leaning forward to meet her eyes. “Where is he?”

The woman’s voice is like windchimes, though Bill can’t see her anymore. “My _brother_ is just reading that journal again, re _lax_!”

Bill can’t help the laugh that starts to bubble in his throat, and then he’s unable to stop, his laughter loud and echoing in the empty blackness of what remains of the Nightmare Realm.

A brother? A god of the summertime?

Oh, this is too good.

“Figures! He’s just like you, Ford.” Fez rolls his eyes, pulls his brother back and away from Shooting Star. “Let the kid do his nerd thing in peace. And let Mabel decide on boys for her _self_.”

“Yeah!” It’s clear these two get along better than Sixer with either of them. “Thanks, Grunkle Stan!”

The brother is just like _Sixer_ , huh? Knowing there are hidden Pines siblings makes for a new plan. As his laugh fades his eye remains lit in a wicked, predatory way.

A little god just like Sixer means he’ll be just as _easy_ to manipulate.

“But _where_ —”

Shooting Star makes some playful mocking sounds, heading out of Bill’s line of sight with Fez at her side. “Let’s do some _cool_ things!”

Two summer gods, a man and woman. What luck for Bill to have caught _this_ conversation, despite watching for centuries and knowing nothing of their existence. Sixer has been careful to not mention anyone’s names in his conversations, but did he _really_ think he could hide these two from Bill forever? Is that why he won’t let them in Bill’s sight, won’t talk about them by name?

Bill always focused his eye on Sixer, especially since he played such a big role in Bill’s banishment. But now, he’s found something a little more interesting. If he focuses his eye on Sixer’s journal _instead_. . .

Deep in the forest of an Earthen village where Bill and Sixer used to meet, a man wanders. He is not in the Heavens, and normally he would have escaped Bill’s notice because he’s just one singular being in the vast mortal world.

Except, in his hands is Sixer’s precious third journal.

Shooting Star’s brother also wears white, his toga modest and covering his torso, though just short enough that he leaves the expanse of his creamy thighs and legs for Bill to eye. He has green vines around his waist and wrists, flowers tucked behind his ear as his hair sticks out messily. Around his neck is a small pine cone necklace. He doesn’t glow as much as his sister, but he has a certain calmness, more reminiscent of the summer twilight, the slight breeze and the cool night sky.

Bill pushes his inner musings—ha! _Muse_ -ings—aside and lights up with glee.

Well, well, _well_.

He’s found Sixer’s weakness, _finally_. The two summer gods are going to be his downfall.

But who to take, who to take? “Eenie.” Pine Tree. “Meenie.” Shooting Star. “ _Miney_.” Pine Tree. “You!”

Shooting Star.

But— There’s a soft beauty to Pine Tree that Bill can’t quite describe. It puts the goddess of beauty to shame, in his opinion, and he’d be willing to stir up a bit of chaos if it means showing off some of Pine Tree’s prettiness, so he wouldn’t be the only one thinking these thoughts. And there must be some promise with his mind, if he’s so absorbed in Sixer’s journals, willing to risk the wrath of the gods to keep traversing the mortal realm.

The fates choose Shooting Star.

(Bill has made a few poor choices before—choosing mortals with strong goals and a misplaced trust in Bill as their plans fail and Bill’s ideas go up in flames, choosing lowly gods with dreams of being bigger but not enough power or cleverness to achieve what Bill is looking for—and centuries of repeated failures tell him that Sixer may be his only hope, unless he’s willing to wait another few centuries for another intelligent, malleable god to come knocking on the doors of the Nightmare Realm.)

Bill chooses Pine Tree.

He just needs to catch Pine Tree before Sixer even realizes he’s snuck out of the heavens. This is most definitely a recurring trip that Pine Tree makes; his family has made it clear he’s often hiding to read this journal, to examine the mysteries about Earth that Sixer penned in his journal with his favorite _Muse_.

How long has this silly little god been sneaking to Earth? How has this escaped Sixer’s distrustful notice? Perhaps Shooting Star is more manipulative than Bill has given her credit for, and her reassurances have been empty promises to her overprotective relative so at least one of them has a semblance of freedom.

Sixer is right, though. The Earth is much closer to the Nightmare Realm, much closer to Bill.

By not telling the little summer god and goddess about the dangers of Bill Cipher, he’s left a very big opening that Bill would be stupid not to take.

And Bill is _anything_ but stupid.

Bill can’t leave the Nightmare Realm. But the conditions of his banishment say nothing about projections of a mortal-looking self. He of course is not so reckless as to project himself in his original, triangle form. The gods and humans he’s manipulated since Sixer were more comfortable with his humanoid appearance than his triangular one.

As overprotective as Sixer is, and as doubtful as Bill is that Sixer mentioned anything about his existence to these young gods, it is better to appear an innocent lowly _mortal_ than as the mischievous god of chaos and nightmares.

He has enough power to project himself through a large rift, so long as he stays a certain distance away. He’s been dormant for a while.

(He can’t wait to see the look on Sixer’s face when he sees the great Bill Cipher in all his triangular glory with the precious god of summer in his arms.)

He designs himself a body, one with rich dark skin that looks pleasant against the dark black of a loose toga, much less modest than the one sported by Pine Tree. The tie at his waist is white, the clasp a triangle with a golden eye. His gloves are also black, with white buttons. He wants the body to be taller than the little god, with sharp angles at his cheeks and jaw, bonier hips, a sharpness to his eyes. He will have hair and an eye as golden as the sun.

He’s going to attract the god of the summer night and _drag_ him back to the Nightmare Realm—kicking and screaming not _un_ welcome—so Sixer will have to relinquish the curse banishing Bill for eternity.

Bill laughs and laughs and laughs.

As he fastens the body together, he scours the Earth for the little god of summer, looking for a nearby clearing to open a new rift. Pine Tree has his nose buried in the journal and is leaning over a circle of mushrooms, ever so curious as he adds his own notes to the journal. Not too far from him is an open area of fallen trees and fresh dirt, where the sun beams directly onto patches of soft grass, and small flowers bloom bright.

He longs to use the rifts as he did before, to actually step out of the rift and enter a different realm and _feel_ the different colors and textures. Soon.

Soon.

Bill closes his eye and snaps his fingers.

Leaving the Mindscape shows such bright, bright colors. Though he longs for the comfort of monochromatic grays and softer hues, the familiarity of silent, echoing cries and cold, dark stone; there’s something rather charming about being in such a colorful existence, particularly when it means he’s closer to reaching his freedom.

While this form isn’t his true body, he still experiences the summer sun on his skin, the heat different from the blue fires he creates in his own realm. There is a stickiness in the air, the sounds of insects buzzing and leaves rustling.

It is the perfect kind of mortal day. There’s an endlessly blue sky and soft white clouds that shield him from the bright sun _just_ enough. It’s the kind of day artists pray to capture in a painting, with heat that poets would lovingly compare to a lover’s skin. It smells like fresh grass and powerful trees, a comfort of the flora and fauna surrounding him.

If there were ever a way to perfectly encapsulate the summer, this type of day would be it. Perhaps Shooting Star blessed the summer day to be beautiful for her brother, the perfect environment for Bill to do as he pleases.

Summer is _not_ Bill’s favorite season. He very much hates it.

The rift behind him is clearly visible, and it is unfortunately a liability if he leaves it unattended too long. If another god were to chance upon the rift and destroy it. . .

Bill snaps his fingers to create his alibi, and a soft red blanket with a little basket of food appears at his feet. What better way to tempt a summer god than with a summer activity?

Normally he plans more for his initial meetings with his new victims. He has enough experience with Ford that he hopes this will be enough.

“Hello?” he calls out. His voice sounds exactly as it always has. Perhaps he should have tried to change it from its loud, echoing tone, different pitches reverberating to show his power.

(A little bit of fear hardly hurt anyone.)

“Hello!” he shouts again. Despite the appearance he wants to project, he refuses to call out for _help_. That is a weakness, and Bill doesn’t _have_ weaknesses. He can’t search the area for other mortals or gods now that he’s expending all of his energy to this form. But he’s been patient for several centuries, hasn’t stepped out of line. He’ll be lucky because he’s Bill Cipher.

“Umm, hello?”

The god of summer appears in front of Bill as though he’d prayed for him.

He’s more striking in person, a flush to his cheeks from running to Bill, from the summer heat. Though his presence doesn’t exude the brightness of his sister’s—and stealing him won’t immediately affect the seasons as much as Bill would like (because it is clear that Shooting Star with her soft curves and pretty smiles is the goddess of the summer _day_ and Pine Tree with his soft _everything_ and eyes full of curiosity is the god of the summer _night_ ), it’ll have the emotional impact he wants instead, which is much more _interesting_ —there’s something about him. . .

“Oh gods.” A vine shoots out of the ground behind Pine Tree and wraps itself around Bill’s ankle, pulling him into the air and hanging him upside down. Pine Tree is immediately flipping through the journal, almost ignoring Bill’s presence.

Projection or not, the feeling of being hung upside down in a vulnerable position is universal. “Hey!”

The view from this angle leaves Bill able to closely examine the purple flowers blossoming from the vine Pine Tree summoned.

Sixer can summon frost, so it makes sense that Pine Tree has some control over plants, but Bill has been so out of touch with the heavens and with Earth that it’s a little startling to have such a close firsthand experience with it.

This little god is more interested in the rift than in the stranger he’s captured. He’s never seen a rift before, most likely, since it’s a Nightmare Realm phenomenon, but the third journal shouldn’t have too much about them. Just enough information that he’ll be more curious about Bill than the rift.

“Hey!” Bill shouts again, startling Pine Tree from his intense focus.

His face blossoms bright red. “I am so sorry!” His voice is a bit higher pitched than Bill was expecting. Not as melodious as his sister’s, but it has a musical quality to it regardless, the kind of voice he would love to hear _scream_. Pine Tree remains oblivious to Bills thoughts, and he waves his hand so the vine releases Bill.

Bill has only a few seconds to catch his balance—which he _does_ , because he’s _Bill Cipher_. He makes a point to grunt as though the action disabled him.

“I just. . . A _rift_. And a umm, mortal.” Has he never talked to a mortal before? How pathetic. But no interactions with other gods or with lowly mortals leaves him ripe for Bill to take. The rift bubbles. “Who are you? How did you get here? Did you summon the rift?” The vines begin to circle Bill’s ankle again, an unspoken threat.

Bill meant for his projected body to be a bit taller than Pine Tree, but he’s much taller than he’d planned. It gives off more of a menacing vibe, a tall, dark stranger standing by a mysterious rift only manageable by a chaos god.

Pine Tree clears his throat and takes a step back as he tilts his head up to stare at Bill. “What were you doing that this rift appeared?” Suspicion is clear in his voice.

“Rift?” Bill forces his face to be the picture of innocence. “I was having a picnic when this black _tear_ appeared.”

Pine Tree glances down at the blanket he’s stepping on, then stumbles as he moves back onto the grass of the clearing. “Oh!” He looks somewhat ashamed of destroying Bill’s fake picnic, coughing and looking away before continuing his interrogation, “Did you say anything or call for anyone that this showed up?”

 _Were you praying for someone in the Nightmare Realm_ goes unsaid.

“I assumed it meant a god was visiting from the Heavens.” Bill smiles, gestures at the rift. The vines wind tight around his ankle. He could snap his fingers and burn them, but— “I was praying to the god of summer, thankful for this weather, the fruits.”

Pine Tree blushes at that, cheeks such a pretty red that Bill does a double take, false heart beating much too quickly in his chest.

Bill smirks, forces these details from his head. It’s clear to him that Pine Tree is a deity, but maybe the lack of time that Pine Tree has spent with mortals will make him think Bill is an innocent mortal who can’t tell the difference between mortals and gods.

Pathetic.

“O-oh.” He closes the journal, hugs it to his chest. “The only beings who could make rifts are from the Nightmare Realm.”

Bill raises an eyebrow. How would he know that?

“So this isn’t from Mabel, sorry.”

“I wasn’t praying to _her_ ,” he says, just vaguely enough.

Bill wishes he knew Pine Tree’s name, but it hadn’t been mentioned in Sixer’s conversation, and it hasn’t been widely spoken among the other gods. He’ll have to learn it the old-fashioned way. In this perspective, he can see the warm brown of Pine Tree’s eyes, the way his eyebrows are furrowed in thought, the bright red of the blush staining his round cheeks. He is. . . awfully pretty, for a summer god. He’s enchanting.

(Is this one of his powers, as a god of the summer?)

The fact that the man is meant to be the mimic of Sixer makes his smile stretch predatorily. While he would have wanted to steal the woman to the Nightmare Realm, it’ll create much more of a stir if _Pine Tree_ comes with him instead. His skin is so pale and unblemished it is clear he is a sheltered little god.

What would some time in the Nightmare Realm do to him? What if Bill were to _mark_ his pretty skin?

Bill would _love_ to find out.

Pine Tree swallows, clears his throat again. Is he going to continue pretending he _isn’t_ a god, despite summoning a plant to subdue a stranger he (rightfully) thinks is dangerous? So stupid. “I’m sure he appreciates your prayers.”

The vine remains wrapped around Bill’s ankle.

“Why don’t you join me?” Bill gestures at his picnic blanket.

“Ah, no thank you.” Pine Tree has just the right amount of suspicion that it’s clear he’s related to Sixer in some way. “I was just passing through.”

A mysterious man by a mysterious rift. Bill will have to be careful not to share his own name, on the off-chance Pine Tree has read about him in his own research. He knows Sixer went through the extra step of destroying all mention of Bill Cipher in the texts of the gods and the mortals.

He wonders if the same could be said for the journal.

“Am I still suspect, or will you be freeing me from your vines?”

Pine Tree looks a bit startled. “I, umm. Of course.” He flicks his wrist, and the vines recede, laying prettily on the forest floor.

Bill laughs his usual loud, almost cruel laugh. “You’re a weird one, Pine Tree.”

“And you’re a suspicious stranger,” Pine Tree mumbles, more to himself, but Bill has impeccable hearing.

“You’re the picture of _sunshine_ , yourself.”

Pine Tree flashes an awkward smile at Bill, like he finds this statement funny. Bill finds it rather disarming, and he licks his lips and looks away.

“Why did you choose to have your picnic here?”

“Who are you, exactly?” Bill asks, like he’s a stupid mortal who’s equally suspicious of the summer god.

As expected, Pine Tree fumbles. “Uhh.” He hugs his journal to his chest, scowling. “I asked first!”

“I’m just a villager. I was going to visit the nymphs after this,” Bill laments, glancing at Pine Tree’s face before sighing. If there’s one thing Bill is good at, it’s _this_. Twisting a situation where someone is suspicious of him, making it so Bill seems like a necessary savior instead. “They aren’t too far from here.”

There are no nymphs mentioned in Sixer’s journal.

Stanford Pines is the god of winter, after all, and Bill never had the chance to show him all of the creatures of the forest before their argument. Bill showed him most of the Earthen creatures detailed on those pages, so he’s well aware of what this little god doesn’t know.

If little Pine Tree is anything like Sixer, the prospect of a creature he hasn’t read about, the idea of exploring with an attractive stranger all too eager to throw compliments at him, will be too tempting.

Like clockwork, the soft brown of Pine Tree’s eyes brightens, and the tense suspicion of his shoulders beings to release. “Really?”

“They always hate seeing me, but Red is just so _pretty_.” Bill grins. The vines are still close enough to his feet that he knows Pine Tree is still wary. “I’ll head over after my lunch. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

Pine Tree bites his lip. Bill finds his eyes drawn to the action, the way his lip pinkens, the soft flutter of his long eyelashes as he ponders. “Any chance you’re looking for a travel partner?”

Bill physically has to hold himself back from laughing, and his smile is definitely leering as he leans toward Pine Tree, his shadow hovering over the little god. “Sure.”

_You think you can keep an eye on me and get to learn about your nymphs, hmm? Silly, silly god._

“Thanks!” Pine Tree bends down to pluck one of the purple flowers he’d created, and Bill eyes his legs again before directing his focus on the flower. He offers it to Bill. “This should be fun.”

Bill blinks in surprise. He hasn’t. . . received anything like this before. There are no flowers in the Nightmare Realm, and certainly nothing as beautiful as the sight of the god of summer handing a soft flower to the god of nightmares. It’s such an innocuous gift, so. . .

He reaches forward, their fingers brushing. Bill shivers despite the summer heat. When the flower touches his gloved hand, it immediately withers, dry and crumpling, the soft crunch resounding in Bill’s ears.

“Oh.” He can’t hide the irritation in his voice. Of course, something so beautiful is not meant for someone like him.

Pine Tree seems sad at the reaction, biting his lower lip again. Does he recognize that a plant’s instant death is not common for a mortal who touches it? Bill isn’t sure. “I guess you’re not the one tending to the gardens at home,” he says, cracking a smile.

“Fortunately. My”—he searches for the best person to name, settling for someone he knows Pine Tree would relate to—“ _sister_ handles the gardening.”

And just like that, Pine Tree is willing to sit with him.

“You’re heading out after your picnic?” Pine Tree asks, moving to sit on the picnic blanket in a way that shows the pretty expanse of his legs. Bill finds himself staring for longer than socially acceptable. He’s not allowed to touch. His projection’s face warms.

Well, then.

It’s almost funny how naïve the god of summer is, that his excitement for discovery and thirst for knowledge has left him ignorant to the dangers of being with a god from the Nightmare Realm. He is so very much like Sixer, so easy to lie to and manipulate, it’s pathetic.

(But then, Bill is the one staring at each miniscule action Pine Tree makes, cataloguing every brush of the breeze to his soft curls, every bite of his plump pink lips. Perhaps the summer god is more devious than Bill realized.)

Pine Tree watches Bill’s actions in silence, as Bill sits down and takes several different fruits from his basket.

“So what’s your name?” Bill asks, leaving the pomegranates untouched as he pulls different cheese and breads from the basket.

“I’m Dipper.”

Bill laughs. That is _definitely_ not the name of the god of the summer night. “ _Dipper?_ ”

“It’s a nickname,” he huffs, and he puffs out his cheeks and pouts, in a way that Bill finds horribly _mesmerizing_. “What’s _your_ name, anyway?”

“Hades,” he says simply, raising his eyebrows at this being that Sixer is so desperate to protect.

Dipper looks unimpressed. “If you were going for less suspicious, I’d have to say you failed.”

“It’s a nickname.”

“ _Dipper_ is a nickname. _Hades_ is a poor cover.”

Bill shrugs, the picture of innocence. “Are you always this rude?”

“Are you always this disingenuous?”

Huh. Perhaps this little god is more interesting than he’d thought.

“Only toward people who think I’m being deceitful.”

“Are you?” Dipper licks his lips, and Bill pretends not to be entranced by the action. “Being deceitful?”

“What do you think?”

They’ve started leaning toward each other, closer than Bill has been to anyone in _centuries_. He can smell the fresh scent of pine trees and grass, can feel the soft summer breeze pushing them closer.

“William,” spills from his lips, almost unbidden.

Dipper smiles. It’s a smile so bright, he reminds Bill of the Earth’s sun and moon and stars, all at once. It’s blinding, like nothing he’s seen in the Nightmare Realm for _centuries_. Bill swallows. “Seems a bit regal for a nerd who can’t keep his garden alive.”

“Well, what’s _your_ name, _Dipper_?”

“I never agreed this was an even exchange,” Dipper leans a bit closer to Bill, enough that Bill catches a whiff of fresh flowers and pine, that he can see the flecks of darker brown in his wide eyes, “ _William_.”

Bill bites a piece of bread rather violently, willing his horrid feelings of _attraction_ to ebb. Dipper laughs and laughs. While his sister’s voice is a melody, Dipper’s laugh is the sweetest summer wine that Bill would willingly drink for hours. Bill feels his expression soften, and he just _stares_.

(It’s worth lying to him, if it means he shares these little moments with Bill.)

They fall into silence.

“We don’t have those, where I’m from,” Dipper offers, an odd conversation starter as he points at the pomegranates.

It seems that the sheltered life he’s been living has left him a bad conversationalist. He almost wants to laugh; Sixer was similar, very educated, well-read in nearly every topic, but horrible at actual socialization. Bill is the opposite, so he’ll lead Dipper through this.

As the god of summer, it’s surprising he’s not familiar with pomegranates, though. Gods don’t require foods to eat; wines and fruits are luxuries they can enjoy if they so desire, but sustenance comes from prayers, from simply existing. Bill is certainly willing to show Dipper _everything_ about the Nightmare Realm.

 _Where are you from?_ would be the obvious follow up, but he’s well aware of where Dipper is from—the Heavens will _cry_ when Bill has his way with their precious summer god—and doesn’t care to hear the lies Dipper will summon to try and explain himself.

“So what are you doing _here_?”

“Oh, I’m just exploring.” Dipper shifts, his toga riding up just enough that Bill’s eye catches the movement and darkens. He licks his lips, then frowns when he realizes what he’s doing. “The morta—Earth—is just so full of oddities.”

“It really is,” Bill agrees amicably. “Humans can be quite dangerous, though.”

“What do you mean?”

Bill smiles wide. “Pine Tree, every creature can be dangerous.” _You’re a bit of danger to the god of the Nightmare Realm as it is._ “Mortals can be guided by greed. Ambition. We can all be a bit. . . _dangerous_.”

“I’m sure that’s true. But I’ve been lucky.” Dipper pushes some his hair behind his ear. He thinks, though this whole escapade was for revenge and ambition and destruction, he might not want to let this god go just yet. “I’ve never met anyone dangerous.”

_You have a power over me I can’t understand._

“Earth is full of _oddities_ , like the Nightmare Realm.” Where you’ll be, soon enough. “The safest and maybe most mysterious place would be the heavens.”

He would have been safer if he’d stayed under Sixer’s watchful eye, after all.

“I think there would be a familiarity with the heavens, once you’ve been there a while.” Dipper plucks another flower from the grass beside the picnic blanket, twirling it in his fingers. “Humans would always carry that unpredictability.” He hands this flower to Bill again. It is a soft yellow, delicate in Dipper’s gentle grip.

Unfortunately, everything that Bill touches with his hands dies and rots. He is a god of nightmares and death, after all. In contrast, everything that Dipper touches blossoms and comes to life.

“A narcissus flower?” Bill asks, making no motion to take the plant. “Trying to tell me something?”

“I know there’s the story of Narcissus, but it also means new beginnings.” He smiles at Bill, almost encouragingly. There’s a slight shimmer around the flower, like he’s enchanted it. “You look like you want something big.”

Despite the fact that he is a god of destruction and he has immense power stronger than this god of summer could ever hope to possess, Bill finds a bit of envy stirring inside him. It would be nice to have the freedom that Dipper has, the safety net of being a god of something trusted, so he can do anything he desires, have any new beginnings he would want.

Bill takes the flower from Dipper, sighing at the warmth of Dipper’s fingertips. Unlike before, this flower stays alive, undying. It is indeed magical. Everything about this is magical.

He quashes the thought.

“What about you?”

“I just want to learn everything I can about Earth.” He taps Sixer’s journal. “I’ve gotten a bit of a head start, though.”

Bill twirls the flower in his hands. “Well, Pine Tree. Lucky for you, I _know_ a few things.”

“Lucky for you, _William_ , so do I.”

As they lose themselves to conversation, the sky begins to darken to twilight, the sky a watercolor of purples and pinks and oranges. The air is cooler, the insects buzzing just the slightest bit louder. It is nearing the summer evening.

Dipper’s domain.

“That’s clearly _wrong_ ,” Dipper says, as he notes Bill’s words in the journal anyway, “the Nightmare Realm has to exist as a balance with the heavens. Earth is its in-between.”

“I picture it all blacks and grays, trees with falling branches, sound muted.”

“There has to be a god there, though. There’s a deity for every aspect of every realm.”

He yearns to brush back the hair falling to Dipper’s cheek. He thinks of when he wanted to touch the god of winter in the same way, the rush of his heartbeat when these gods light up at a new discovery. Somehow, his false body’s reaction _before_ doesn’t compare to the fire in his stomach _now_ , the heat in his cheeks burning to his fingertips so he can simply touch the soft cheek of this little god.

He ignores it, ignores the thoughts, ignores the feelings.

“Then who do you think would reign over the Nightmare Realm?”

 _Who, Pine Tree?_ “I—”

“We should try to catch sight of the nymphs now,” Bill suggests, tilting his head so his face is shadowed. “Or. . .” Now, to see if his hard work has paid off. “What if we explore the rift, instead?”

“Explore the rift?” Dipper asks, uncertainty clear in his eyes but a layer of suspicion and also excitement in his voice. The prospect of exploring a new land, one not detailed in the journal, could be too tempting for someone with Dipper’s personality. “I’ve never read anything about the Nightmare Realm before, only theorized.” He wouldn’t have, and Bill is relying on that. “My great uncle destroyed a lot of the information about it, says the creatures there are too dangerous.”

“What did I tell you about dangerous creatures?”

“I can handle myself.”

Overconfident? Or trying to seem that way to impress his companion?

Maybe it wouldn’t be so horrible to keep this little summer god in the Nightmare Realm. He’s intelligent, beautiful, just bright enough to keep the Realm pleased (but not too bright to wash out the blacks and grays). He would make an excellent conversation partner, would bring life and plants to the barren wasteland of what it currently is.

(Perhaps he could keep this little god with him even after Sixer releases him from his banishment.)

Bill glances down at the picnic he’d constructed, an idea flickering in his mind before taking hold, suppressing any other thoughts he’d had. “Think about it while we visit the nymphs, then.”

“Okay.”

He picks up a pomegranate and a small knife, cutting the fruit in half and offering a piece to Dipper. “How about a snack before we go? You haven’t eaten anything.”

“Oh, I don’t need. . .” He hugs the journal to his chest. He doesn’t need food, but does he trust Bill enough to eat the fruit anyway?

“Eat.”

The dark red juice of the pomegranate drips down his gloves toward his uncovered wrist, staining his skin like blood. It’s the type of beautiful horror for the Nightmare Realm, and Dipper is ever-so-curious.

Dipper looks up at Bill—and Bill pictures him bending his head to press his pretty pink lips to Bill’s fingertips, to take the seed in his mouth—and he seems unsure.

“Eat,” he offers again, throat dry as his mind runs rampant, his thoughts and longings horrible and desperate and— And Dipper tucks his journal under his arm and takes the fruit in his hands. “We’ll head to the nymphs after.”

“Thank you,” Dipper says, and he smiles at Bill, disarming in his prettiness, brighter than the sun itself. Beautiful. Like Sixer, he’s easy to manipulate. Unlike Sixer, Bill feels something strange stirring in him when he looks at Dipper, and he’s going to figure out what it is. Why is he so _pretty_?

Working with Sixer, with any of the mortals or gods he’s ever manipulated, was nothing like _this_.

Dipper takes a bite of the Nightmare Realm’s own forbidden fruit, and their fates intertwine. Bill can’t help his laugh.

“What’s so funny?” His lips are stained red, and Bill has the urge to see if they taste like pomegranate juice.

His grin stretches, wide and predatory and the slightest bit light and happy, and Dipper’s eyebrows furrow in uncertainty as he takes a step back. The vines twitch around Bill’s innocent picnic blanket. Fireflies begin to circle the air around them, and Dipper’s eyes are alight with so much Bill can’t even begin to comprehend.

Well. He has _eternity_ to find out.

Will the summers become cold as Shooting Star cries? Will the winters become torture, when Sixer finally decides to relinquish the Nightmare Realm and demand his precious Dipper? Will Dipper—

“I’m quite happy I found you,” he tucks the yellow narcissus flower behind Dipper’s ear, “little summer god.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another fic of mine where Bill is creepy for Dipper ooooph, I swear I have more ideas than this (maybe, possibly, not really).
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts! The imagery for this fic was so fun to detail, and I just love Hades and Persephone AUs.
> 
> (and please talk gravity falls and billdip to me on [tumblr](http://ssuppositiouss.tumblr.com)!)


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